Betwixt and Between
by jillyfae
Summary: Short fic collection for pieces in and around the Normandy's voyages in Mass Effect. (Various Shepards and characters.)
1. ulp

_a/n: inspired by an art prompt by cheesiestart, of a poor confounded Shepard hand-cuffed to a bed ... ^_~_

* * *

Shepard woke up slowly, his legs heavy against the sheet beneath him, his shoulders tight. He started to try and stretch them out, and heard the clink of metal, felt the motions of his arms impeded by _cuffs_?

Immediately awake, his arms pulling steadily against his restraints, he slitted his eyes to take stock of the situation.

And then he blinked.

"Good morning, Shepard."

Normally, Tali's distinctive voice greeting him as he woke up was a _good _sign. Being in a proper bed instead of his rack on the _Normandy _ought to have been pleasant as well. Smooth sheets, an awful lot of pillows, _most of them knocked on the floor, _what felt like actual old-fashioned wood behind his back… he kicked one heel against the mattress beneath him, impressed by the weight, the thickness that still gave beneath him, slow and soft. It was a really nice bed.

The room they were in was equally nice, thick neutral colored carpeting, sunlight streaking through the air, split apart by slightly tinted multi-paned windows along one wall; letting in light but making sure no one could clearly see either in or out, even without distortion shields or baffles.

And Tali. Perched on a stool next to a dresser, head tilted in what usually meant a smile.

"Um," he managed. He could tell from the flat sound of his grunt that the room they were in was even sound-proofed. _Very fancy._

Not that that was really a surprise. Ought to be fancy, considering how much it cost. It was nice to know he was still in the proper hotel room, but waking up restrained was a bit disconcerting. At best.

"Did you want some coffee?" Tali hopped gracefully down from her stool, leaning towards him as she spoke. "I know it's usually the first thing you look for, in the morning."

Shepard just glared, and shifted his arms again, letting the chime of metal against metal and metal against wood do his speaking for him.

"Oh, you're curious about why you're chained to the bed?"

He was pretty sure she was laughing at him. That was not usually this annoying.

"Well…" Tali leaned a hip against the edge of the mattress. Which provided a rather unfairly lush view of the line of her legs up her side and… maybe being chained to the bed wasn't such a bad thing. "Chakwas insisted on you actually getting some rest, for once. And every other time you've attempted a day of shoreleave to get away from things, you piss off some mercs, or run into some refugee family and _it'll just take an hour to help them, right?_" Shepard could resist grinning when her voice dropped in a very poor imitation of his own rougher voice. "And then there are guns and explosions and no rest at all. And however much I do enjoy helping you blow things up, I thought maybe we should try something different this time."

"So I'm handcuffed to prevent me getting into trouble?"

"You're handcuffed to prevent you _going outside_ and getting into trouble." Tali eased her way up on the bed by his feet, leaning forward as her voice slid down into a gentle murmur. "Do you know why I picked this particular hotel?"

"No?"

"They have a very sophisticated sonic cleaning system and each room is completely self-contained, with individual water and air filtration and doors that also function as airlocks." Shepard swallowed as she shifted, one hand reaching slowly for the seam that sealed her gloves into the sleeves of her suit. "It's designed for paranoid political types afraid of assassination or reporters, but…" She'd finished with the seam, and was very carefully tugging at the tips of her fingers to start sliding the glove off her hand. "It also functions as a clean room, for our purposes."

"And what, precisely, are our purposes?"

"We wouldn't want to let those handcuffs go to waste, now would we?"


	2. Joker's Letter Game

Joker can never resist meddling in Shepard's business. And why should he, after all, when Shepard so obviously needs the help? ^_~

_These were all written before ME3 came out, and are behind-the-scenes conversations, Joker and the ME1 LI's, trying to deal with, well, the big-ole-mess of everything after Horizon, before LotSB._

* * *

**Part the first: F!Shepard/Liara**

**"Pictures" **

* * *

_To: [\\Illium\\classified]  
_  
_From: [joker\\sr-2\\classified]  
_  
_Subject: ... the hell?_

You knew she was alive? You were ready for us? And you couldn't even give her a proper hello? She wandered back to the ship looking like a kitten who got kicked through a plate-glass window.

You didn't used to be the bitch. Knock it off.

- Joker

* * *

_To: [joker\\sr-2\\classified]  
_  
_From: [\\Illium\\classified]  
_  
_Subject: you don't understand_

Pilot Moreau:

Please don't compromise both our security protocols by continuing with this form of communication.

There are extenuating circumstances. I just - I can't -

I'm sorry.

- T'Soni

* * *

_To: [\\Illium\\classified]  
_  
_From: [joker\\sr-2\\classified]  
_  
_Subject: only 'cause you're not talking_

Don't tell me you're sorry! Tell her. Shepard is supposed to scare people, not inspire pity. She is more pathetic than a kitten stuck in a tree. KITTEN, Liara. It's not right.

It's no fun teasing a sad kitten. I keep wanting to make her warm milk and tuck her into bed. That's your job. Not mine. Do your damn job.

And take some pictures.

- Joker

ps. Pulling the security card was lame. Like I can't hack rings around Lawson. And if you're not secure on your end, I'll eat my hat. And it's a good hat. I like my hat.

* * *

_To: [joker\\sr-2\\classified]  
_  
_From: [\\Illium\\classified]  
_  
_Subject: you're talking enough for both of us_

You're not going to leave this alone, are you?

I'm sorry for trying to hide behind security concerns, but I'm in a precarious position, and I don't want to make things worse for Shepard. There are things I have to do. Promises I've made. And I can't let her down again. I just ... I'm sorry.

And pictures? Pictures of what? Why would I take pictures for you?

* * *

_To: [\\Illium\\classified]  
_  
_From: [joker\\sr-2\\classified]  
_  
_Subject: A picture's worth 1000 words. If you want to catch up._

Pictures. You. Shepard. Embracing Eternity. Yeah, I know what you asari do. And it's hot. And you owe me, 'cause I'm the one stuck here taking care of your heart-broken girlfriend. Who still loves you and wants to help.

Shit, T'soni, you were supposed to be the smart one. Not really acting like it.

Use that big brain of yours, Professor.

* * *

_To: [joker\\sr-2\\classified]  
_  
_From: [\\Illium\\classified]  
_  
_Subject: I am not sending you pictures!_

Will she still love me when she finds out what I did? What I am planning to do? What she's doing now... She's too important to let me tie her down, Joker. You have to let this go. I can't give her... I can't give you what you're asking. Not now.

* * *

_To: [\\Illium\\classified]  
_  
_From: [joker\\sr-2\\classified]  
_  
_Subject: Send her pictures?_

PLEASE GOD TIE HER DOWN. She'll thank you for it later.

If you change your mind, you know where to find us. Try to get your act together sooner rather than later?

* * *

**Part the second: M!Shepard/Ashley  
"Swearing"**

* * *

_To: [classified]_  
_From: [private account] _  
_Subject: Babe…_

You should've just shot him. Would've been kinder.

Joker

* * *

_To: [private account]_  
_From: [classified] _  
_Subject: Don't call me Babe_

What are you talking about? How do you even know? You were there? You're his pilot, aren't you? You knew. You fucking knew he wasn't dead, and you didn't tell me. You bastard. I am never forgiving either one of you. Go to hell.

Ashley

* * *

_To: [classified] _  
_From: [private account] _  
_Subject: I've got a different word starting with 'b' I could use instead…_

He's in hell already, Operations Chief Williams. Happy now? Without you, without the Alliance, with colonists dying, forced to work with the bad guys. He doesn't like the bad guys any more than you do. You don't really think that would've changed just cause of an itty-bitty-little thing like dying, now do you?

Joker

* * *

_To: [private account] _  
_From: [classified] _  
_Subject: You really want to start a swearing contest with a Marine, flyboy?_

Dying, right. He looked real fucking dead on Horizon, taking down Collector ass with his damn Cerberus crew. Why the hell am I still talking to you? Stop bothering me, Joker. This shit is hard enough without you doing whatever the fuck it is you think you're doing.

Ashley

* * *

_To: [classified] _  
_From: [private account] _  
_Subject: No imagination, Marine. As if four-letter words make you tough. No finesse._

You think you've got it hard? He died, Ash, swear to God. Your God, even, not mine, so you know I'm serious. The bad guys brought him back. (They brought my baby back too. Mostly even better than she was.)

We're fighting the Reapers. Remember them, those things the Council won't let us talk about? Cerberus is talking. Shepard's not the type to shoot the messenger, however much he hates him, not if it means keeping people alive. You know that better than anyone. Give him a damn break. He needs it. Doesn't even laugh at my jokes anymore. Give him back his sense of humor, please?

Joker

* * *

_To: [private account] _  
_From: [classified] _  
_Subject: How would you know? You're as sophisticated as an eight-year-old._

No one with a sense of humor laughs at your jokes. And I wouldn't know how to give anything back to him. I don't know how to do anything for him, Joker. Not anymore. I wouldn't…

What's there to say?

Ashley

* * *

_To: [classified] _  
_From: [private account] _  
_Subject: Even eight-year-olds have friends, babe._

Hell if I know what you should say! If I knew, I'd tell him myself. But he's teaching the damn drell poetry, and refusing to talk to anyone else about much of anything else, and Chakwas even asked me if I thought he was doing alright. Me! Shit, he's not alright. He misses you.

I do too, you could keep this crew of sociopaths in check, I think.

Joker

* * *

_To: [private account]_  
_From: [classified]_  
_Subject: Stop being so reasonable, jackass. Makes it hard to stay mad at you._  
_[message attached]_

Aw hell. Be a lousy Marine if I refused to do something just because it scared the crap out of me, right? Pass this on for me, will you? And no peeking.

Ashley

* * *

_To: [classified] _  
_From: [private account] _  
_Subject: Yes Ma'am_

Can I burn the damn Tennyson book now that he's no longer sulking? Do I strike you as the kind of guy who'd care about some long dead old white guy? No, I didn't think so. Thank you for saving me from the mad poet.

Joker

* * *

_To: [private account] _  
_From: [classified] _  
_Subject: Thank you, dumb-ass_

No book burning. Or I will shoot you. And you're welcome.

You keep those sociopaths off his back, Joker. Bring him back to me. Or I'll hunt you both down and drag you back from whatever hellhole you got yourselves killed in.

Ashley

* * *

**Part the third: F!Shepard/Kaidan"Target Practice"**

* * *

_To: [classified]  
Subject: What the hell is wrong with you?_

Alenko:

She comes back from the dead and you yell at her?

Dumb-ass.

Just sayin'

- Joker

* * *

_To: [re-routing to private account]  
Subject: None of your damn business _

Joker:

I thought you weren't talking to me after you dumped the Alliance for Cerberus.

- Alenko

* * *

_To: [classified]  
Subject: Since when has that stopped me?_

Alenko:

No, you were the one not talking to me for "abandoning" the hypocrites who wouldn't let me fly. Or admit that Sovereign existed. Or acknowledge anything else Shepard and Ashley died for. Stop being such a self-righteous jack-ass.

- Joker

* * *

_To: [re-routing to private account]  
Subject: Never, but I keep hoping you'll grow a sense of decency _

Joker:

Thresher Maws. Creepers. Husks. Rachni. Toombs. Kahoku.

You're going to get yourselves killed working for the devil. Proud of that, are you?

- Alenko

* * *

_To: [classified]  
Subject: What the hell good would that do me?_

Alenko:

Come on, man. That's lame, even from you. Unless you like watching colonies disappear? You're the one who's always all "mission first". Even Garrus is willing to put aside the past to back the Commander up, and he always used to have an even bigger stick up his ass than you do.

- Joker

* * *

_To: [re-routing to private account]  
Subject: Fewer people trying to kick your brittle ass?_

Damnit Joker, no one asked me to back her up! While you and Garrus and Shepard were flying about the galaxy playing Cerberus vigilante, I thought she was dead!

* * *

_To: [classified]  
Subject: Rather have my brittle bones than your foot-in-mouth disease_

Alenko:

That's the real problem, you big baby. You're still crying cause the girl didn't call you first. In case you forgot, you've been classified at **eyes only** ever since you started running errands for those Council shit-heads. Anderson stonewalled her, and even Timmy-boy claimed he couldn't find you. I traded in every favor I still had with an Alliance comm-tech to get your address, and only managed it now that they've grounded you at the Citadel since Horizon.

What was she supposed to do, think at you real hard? Trust me, if that worked, you would've known about it. She's still got your damn picture on her desk, even now. (Well, minus a short stint as a dart-board. She and Garrus can shoot with anything.) I have no idea what she sees in you.

- Joker

* * *

_To: [re-routing to private account]  
Subject: I hate it when you're right _

Joker:

Any idea how I could get her a message that Cerberus won't screen?

I owe her an apology.

- Alenko

P.S. What the hell's a Timmy-boy?

* * *

_To: [classified]  
Subject: I'd think you'd be used to it by now. _

Alenko:

The Illusive Man has no sense of humor. Calling him Timmy-boy helps give the prick perspective.

And if you send me an attachment, I think I can route it past her Cerberus secretary.

Don't I get an apology too? You yelled at me and hurt my little feelings.

- Joker

* * *

_To: [re-routing to private account]  
_  
_Subject: Sorry to your little feelings  
Attachment: About Horizon…_

Joker:

Thank you.

- Alenko


	3. Enough

Shakarian fluff for Sia. One can assume this is probably some version of her Meghan Shepard. ;)

* * *

"Shepard."

"Vakarian."

Shepard was lying backwards on her bed, booted feet up against the wall, glaring at the stupid-assed-skylight. _Who puts a skylight above a bed in a spaceship? Even people who aren't me _(who didn't die) _can't like the idea of getting spaced right as they're going to sleep._

"We could get that covered up next time we're in port, you know."

Garrus suggested that every time she got especially frustrated by the damn thing.

"Or I could stop obsessing over lousy design decisions." Shepard rolled over, propping her head on her hands as she stared back at her favorite turian, _favorite everything, _still standing at the top of the steps by her desks. "What's up?"

"Nothing." He was leaning against the column by the stairs, and she was pretty sure if she was human she'd see his teeth glinting with a smirk. Turian smirks were all about the angle of a mandible, the tilt of a head.

_Kinda sexy, when he does it. _"Why do I not believe you?"

"I have no idea." He spread his hands wide, a human gesture of innocence that made her snicker.

"You're about as convincing as Joker claiming he doesn't watch porn when he's on duty."

"Always about the porn." Garrus sighed heavily. "You are a very perverse woman, Shepard."

"Part of my charm."

"That it is." His voice had dropped, that extra _twang _making her stomach clench. "That it is."

He stalked slowly down the stairs, leaning down to murmur against her ear.

"Part of my charm too, don't you think?"

"Definitely." She grinned at him, rolling over onto her back again, her hands slowly unbuttoning her blouse, her feet shifting so she could toe off her boots.

"Shh," he shook his head slightly, that delightful smirk causing his mandible to flare a little more. "You should keep your boots on."


	4. Pillow Talk

_So, this was written a very long time ago, (I'm afraid to read it, what if it's dreadful?) but in the interests of completion and actually archiving all my crap like I'm supposed to, I can't pretend it never happened... ...I originally wrote this as part of Lost for Words, but it didn't quite fit the flow, so it became this little side scene instead._

* * *

Kaidan drifts happily, only half awake, admiring the contrast between Shepard's dark-skinned arm and his paler one as they lay next to each other across his chest, his other arm absentmindedly stroking her back. If it wasn't for her hair starting to tickle his nose, he's pretty sure he'd never want to move again. He breathes out experimentally, trying to get the loose strands to fall back towards her head where it rests on his shoulder, but all he manages is to get a few in his mouth.

Apparently alerted by the odd sounds he makes as he tries to spit them out without bothering to move, Cara shifts around until she can rest her chin on his chest, cushioned on her hands, looking up at him with an amused tilt to her mouth. "Bet you miss the long hair too, don't you? It used to stay all nicely tied back, unlike this crazy stuff, getting all over the place all the time."

"I don't know," Kaidan muses quietly, admiring the way her messy hair outlines her face, tap ering out by her chin. "I rather like it. It's adorable." He lifts his head, giving her a quick peck on the tip of her nose before retreating back to his pillow with a grin.

She lifts her head just enough to slide an arm free and smack him lightly in the shoulder. "It is not! I am big, bad, Shepard, scourge of pirates and Reapers and defender of the civilized galaxy… Spectre's are scary, not adorable!"

As he stares into her face, smiling back at him, lit up with mock defiance, his heart suddenly jumps up into his throat, almost strangling his voice as he manages only a rough whisper. "I adore you."

Her eyes darken as her smile fades, replaced by something more intense as she stares back at him, her voice just as husky as she answers. "That's all right, then."

His fingers tangle in the hair on each side of her head, pull, insisting that her mouth rise to meet his. Tongues and lips savor each other as he rolls, pushing her down into the mattress with the weight of his body above hers. _Mine_, is the last thing he thinks, _as I'm her's._


	5. Silence

_Ages and eons ago, a group on the BSN prompted something to inspire some creativity post-ME2 before we knew anything about ME3... wherein Shepard and Alenko would be reunited, but, for whatever reason you could come up with, dialogue was not allowed._

_/I am dialogue whore, OH NOES I CAN'T DO THAT?_

_So of course I tried. :)_

* * *

Shepard couldn't remember where she was. Or when, or why, or what she was supposed to be doing. Her back ached, and her throat was sore, and her arms felt oddly heavy. She'd blink, and the light would change, angle and color. Sometimes all she could see was a grey ceiling, other times faces she knew would appear in her view, stare silently or chatter nervously, then disappear again. Usually her crew. Those that were still alive. Jack, Thane, Miranda, Tali, Garrus, even Grunt once. Mordin. Kasumi had said good-bye, she thought, but she might have imagined that one. Joker appeared a few times, and she almost didn't recognize him without his hat. Chakwas came back over and over again, her expression serious but calm, her warm smile soothing away the hovering confusion before the lights faded away again.

And then she opened her eyes again and saw Lieutenant, no Commander, Alenko. Kaidan, his eyes blood-shot, his hair mussed. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the t ears she felt building. He wasn't really here. It had to be an hallucination. Her mind was playing particularly nasty tricks on her.

Next time she opened her eyes, he was still there. That never happened. Her blinks were heavy, took forever, and the faces always moved. Why hadn't his face changed?

He caught her gaze, and smiled slightly. She felt an odd pressure against her fingers and forced her eyes to move away from his shadowed gaze, slowly following the line of his shoulder and arm down to where his fingers were wrapped around someone else's hand, the stranger's skin cracked and ashy. She felt the pressure again, and realized with surprise that it was her hand he was holding. She tried to squeeze back, and was rewarded with the deepening half-smile she never thought she'd see again. She tried to smile back, but her eyelids dropped in another blink.

It was dark this time, and she couldn't see his face. But she could still feel something interlaced throu gh her fingers, and when she forced her head to move, she saw his head pillowed on the side of her bed, next to their hands. She felt the smile grow across her face, and she shifted slightly between her sheets. Maybe trying to stay awake for a little while for once wasn't such a bad idea.


	6. Care

So, I participated in ironfic, which required me to write something to suit a provided theme and character in a very short amount of time. I only sort of hit the theme, (or the style I was going for), but it was amazingly entertaining, and here is the result. Completely unedited, despite the pain it causes me. ^_~

Apologies if Turian life seems a bit too much like human life... it was a conscious decision, as BioWare made what little we got of alien culture in game so much like what we know, but I completely understand if it rather throws a reader out of the fic. ;)

* * *

Young Garrus, independence, good intentions, and getting into trouble.

* * *

_Follow the chain of command._ Father's voice rumbled in his memory.

But Father was gone.

Again.

No word. No messages.

When she wasn't working, Mother was worried, her fingers too tight, wrapped around each other when she thought he wasn't looking.

Solana would tell him to call Grandmother.

Solana was taking a nap.

_Little ones needed their sleep._

Mother had sent them both to their rooms for 'quiet time'.

But he wasn't little.

He didn't need to sleep. He was older. Stronger.

He had to help.

He had to step up.

Be responsible.

He'd help Mother, all on his own.

But how?

He shoved a stool into the pantry, climbed on top of it to look at the top shelf. The shelf with the first-aid kit, the medicine. All the things they wouldn't let him use by himself.

But he was big. He knew they weren't toys. He remembered which one Mother took when she couldn't sleep, when the cough got really bad.

He couldn't find it.

He tried the next shelf down.

It wasn't there either.

Was that why she was so tired? She was out of her medicine?

He'd go get her some more then.

He knew the way to the store. He walked there with Mother every Firstday, when she was doing the shopping for the week.

She hadn't gone shopping this week. Spread her fingers, tried to smile, told him they didn't need anything, and _would he like to play with the new block set his father had sent?_

Solana had fallen for it, laughing and knocking her tower down, over and over.

He'd seen Mother talking to the man at the store the week before though.

It wasn't from Father.

She'd had it delivered to distract them.

She wasn't feeling well, and she hadn't gone to the store.

He should've figured it out sooner.

He'd do better, now.

He was careful, opening the front door.

Didn't want her to hear him.

She'd stop him.

She was so worried about them she wasn't taking care of herself. So he'd take care of them, until Father got back.

He knew where they hid the emergency credits.

You'd think grown-ups would be better at hiding money, but no, there it was, behind the vegetable drawer in the cooler.

He wasn't sure how much her medicine cost, so he took it all.

He remembered to grab his coat before he left.

Should always be prepared. Just in case. It might rain.

It was red. He hated red. But Father had picked it out for him before he left, so he wore it anyways.

He was spotted by their next door neighbor before he made it all the way down the driveway. He picked up the balls against the fence, pretending that was why he'd come outside, and went back in again.

He waited by the door, but the neighbor didn't go back inside.

He snuck out the back, instead, climbing the fence and dropping to his feet in the dirt.

The manager of the complex saw him when he got past their block though.

He checked the mailbox and turned around again.

He got back inside the house and tried not to stomp his feet in frustration.

Mother would hear that.

He took his coat off, turned it inside out and put it back on again.

Found one of Father's old hoods in the closet.

Snuck out again, stayed behind the buildings, avoiding the regular walkway.

Made it all the way to the main road this time.

But he wasn't supposed to cross it by himself.

There was a bridge further down, but it was out of his way. Could he afford the time?

Better than getting stuck in traffic.

He ducked his head, pulling the hood further forward so no one could see his face.

It did start to rain, and he grinned, mandibles flaring against the fabric of the hood.

_Always have a back-up plan._

The echo of Father's voice almost sounded approving, that time.

No one bothered him now, everyone fleeing back inside to avoid the weather.

The lady working at the store gave him a hard look, mandibles tight, but he was very polite, described Mother's box, explained she had a cough. The lady still looked suspicious, but she got it down for him, rang it up.

He managed to pull out a credit-chit without spilling too many in his pocket.

She grunted, wrapped up his change in the bag with the medicine, and followed him all the way out the door, scowling as he went back down the street.

Back across the bridge, back down the street.

It would ruin everything if he got caught again so close to home.

He cut over before he got back to the complex, trying not to slip in the mud between the fences as he cut back between the yards.

No one was ever back here, besides the maintenance crews. He liked to keep an eye on them though, see which panels accessed which systems, which hatches were used for transporting materials, which ones for trash, which ones for people.

He made it all the way back to his yard, recognizing the notch at the top of his fence where he perched when he was watching the workers.

And only then realized there was no way back UP from this side. No handy tree, like there was in the yard, the path between the fences always kept clear in case they needed to get a cart or a trolley through.

It took five tries to find hand-holds, and he was absolutely covered in mud from sliding back down after each failed attempt, but finally he managed to brace himself around the corner and get all the way back up.

He fell in a puddle when he slid down the fence on the other side, water leaking down between his hood and his coat, mud sliding against his neck.

He stood up, _I am not crying, big brothers don't cry_, and jumped a few extra times in the puddle, letting water splash everywhere, cover his face and his hands and his pants and his coat.

He snuck back in through the back door, careful to strip off everything muddy and throw it in the 'cycler for cleaning. He tiptoed carefully back through the house in nothing but his shirt, the bag carefully clutched in his hands.

He'd forgotten to put the stool away.

He felt an instant of panic, joints locking up when he saw it, wondering if anyone else had seen it, but the house was still quiet.

He decided to be glad that it was still in the pantry, right where he needed it. He climbed back up, slid the box back behind the first-aid kit.

Put the credits back behind the vegetables.

Went back to get the stool again, put it away this time.

Ran back to his room, found new clothes, stuffed the now empty bag under his mattress.

His hands were a mess, mud in between the joints. He'd broken one of his talons completely on the fence, another one cracked almost all the way to the quick.

Mother would notice that.

Mother always noticed things like that.

He needed an excuse.

A reason.

_A lie._

Father's voice was not approving that time.

Good turians didn't lie.

Good turians don't break the rules.

_A good turian would've asked Mother what to do._

_Or called Grandmother._

_Solana's a good turian._

Garrus sighed.

He pulled the bag back out from under his mattress.

Walked slowly downstairs, rescued his boots and coat and pants and socks out of the 'cycler. Hung them up on the drying rack, in plain view, right next to the back door.

Put the bag in the bin.

Went and moved the stool again, got the box of medicine, and sighed again.

He had to swallow three times before he could convince his legs to move, to take him to the door of Mother's study.

He raised one hand and knocked, trying not to wince when he bumped his broken talon.

He heard Mother moving behind the door, and then it opened, her eyes and mandibles tight as she stared down at him.

"Garrus? You're five minutes early, you know." She stopped, eyes widening slightly as she looked at the box. As she looked at the state of the hands holding the box.

She sighed, that tight almost whistle to her breath that he _hated_. It only happened when she was worried. Or disappointed.

She stepped back into her study, gesturing for him to come inside.

"Sit."

He sat.

"Explain."

He tried.

Really, he tried, but her eyes and her hands and her mandibles just got tighter and he trailed off, miserable, staring down at the box still in his lap.

She sighed again.

There wasn't a whistle this time.

He lifted his head, trying not to fidget. Trying not to hope.

"I'm sorry?"

She laughed softly, but it broke as she started to cough again.

He made himself stand up, ignoring the twist in his stomach and the wobbly feeling in his knees, so he could walk the two steps over to her and give her the box.

She almost smiled, that time. "You are grounded, you know."

He nodded.

"For a very long time."

He nodded again.

"Go back to your room. I'll call you down when dinner's ready."

He nodded a third time, though a bit more slowly that time.

"Go on, shoo." She patted him gently on the arm. He took one step, and then she reached out and pulled him back in a proper hug. "I love you, silly. But don't do that again."

He nodded yet again, though he smiled that time, and scurried off to his room.

Maybe he was a good turian too?

Just had to keep trying.


End file.
